


everywhere, at all times

by Flamingbluepanda



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, A tag made just for me, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani Needs a Hug, M/M, Team as Family, fic of a fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29398392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamingbluepanda/pseuds/Flamingbluepanda
Summary: Five times Joe mourned the end of his quidditch career, and the one time he was alright
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	everywhere, at all times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aglassfullofhappiness (mehmehs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehmehs/gifts).
  * Inspired by [a family that flies together (sticks together)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384458) by [aglassfullofhappiness (mehmehs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehmehs/pseuds/aglassfullofhappiness). 



> So first and foremost, go read quidditch fic right fuckin now, the link is RIGHT there. 
> 
> Second of all, Mehmeh, I love you, thanks for consistently letting me play in your sandbox. You're so freaking talented and I'm so happy to be your friend.
> 
> Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine, dedicated to Mehs

The very first time he thinks about the fact that he’s never going to play again, it’s unbidden, frenzied. Joe isn’t even  _ aware  _ of it.

It happens the exact same moment that the bulger slams into his head. He doesn’t process it, because his brain is preoccupied to say the least, but it happens. Somewhere in his subconscious a tiny part of him says  _ well, that’s it then  _ and accepts the fact that this is the end of his career.

Later, Joe sits in a hospital bed and watches the world spin out of time around him. Everyone is so worried about him, his teammates keep crying, and suddenly Nicky is called  _ dangerous  _ which is insane, Nicky is the kindest person on the planet and he’s never deliberately hurt anyone.

Except he did, apparently, because that person hurt Joe.

It’s romantic, in a twisted sort of way.

Joe gets a space of about two minutes at one point between doctors and visitors, where he is completely alone in his bed, still confused and concussed and on  _ so many  _ pain suppressors he definitely isn’t thinking straight. 

And that’s when that tiny piece of him, not ten percent of his soul, says “we’re never going to fly again.” 

Joe doesn’t want to accept it,  _ refuses  _ to, in fact. He’ll spend another several  _ months  _ denying it. 

But at the moment it’s too much for his battered brain to handle, and he promptly bursts into tears.

* * *

When he  _ does  _ acknowledge it, a lifetime of exhaustive tests and arguments and therapy both physical and mental later, the first person he goes to is Andy.

It’s not that he’s afraid to tell Nicky, he knows he won’t be anything but supportive, but Andy is the most logical person to talk to, since she’s his friend who retired. 

Plus, Andy seems to know what he wants to talk about as soon as she sees him. She takes one look at him, casts a silencing spell around the room so no one can hear them, and offers him a chocolate bar.

“We’re in preseason,” Joe says dryly, “I shouldn’t be eating this.”

“Shut up and eat it,” Andy says, sitting in a chair and gesturing for him to do the same. “What do you wanna know?”

“How do you…” Joe hesitates, fiddling with the wrapper in his hands. “How do you… accept it? I mean, I know it has to happen. I  _ want  _ it to happen, I think. I don’t  _ know,  _ which is the problem.”

“The fact that we’re having this conversation means you  _ do  _ know,” Andy says. “This isn’t retiring from some office job, this is leaving an entire lifestyle behind and you wouldn’t even be thinking about it if you weren’t sure.”

“When you’re a quidditch player on the pitch, you’re a player everywhere, at all times.” Joe recites dutifully. He’s heard the saying before, mostly when he was a young rookie with a perchance for trouble. 

Andy nods at him. “Exactly. And honestly, I don’t  _ blame  _ you. I’ve seen people take hits nowhere  _ near  _ as bad as yours and hobble off the field into retirement to lick their wounds.” 

“I don’t…” Joe finally puts his chocolate bar down, clasping his hands in his lap the way he was taught to so he would stop fidgeting at press conferences. “I don’t want it to be seen as that. I don’t want people to think I’m running from my problems or that I’ve been forced into retirement.”

Andy raises an eyebrow. “You say that like you’ve thought about this before.”

She doesn’t have to specify before what. Everything seems to be before and after the incident with Keane now — Nicky’s moods, Joe’s health. He doesn’t want his career to be something different after, but apparently he’s wrong.

“I haven’t,” Joe whispers, squeezing his hands hard enough it hurt. “Or at least nothing beyond thoughts of “oh, I’ll put this off until I-“

The word jams in his throat, and Andy’s eyes go unbearably soft. 

“You don’t  _ have  _ to do this,” Andy says, reaching forward to squeeze his knee. “You don’t, Joe. I’m not saying it’s a good idea, and as your friend I don’t want to suggest it, but as your boss and as someone who knows how much you love the game I’m obligated to point out you have a few seasons left in you.”

And oh, Joe  _ wants  _ them. He wants to personally train his replacements and take on more rookies and flirt with Nicky and win more games and fly until he is forcefully dragged away from his broom.

But…

Joe squeezes Andy’s hand where it rests on his knee, smiling even with tears leaking from his eyes.

“There was this moment in the hospital where I woke up and Nicky was praying,” Joe said softly, voice hoarse. “He doesn’t- prayer reminds him of his birth family. He doesn’t find comfort in it, most of the time. I brought him so low that he turned to a god he hated for some mediocum of peace. If I never have to see him like that again, to say  _ nothing  _ of everything that happened after…”

Andy’s nodding, understanding, probably already planning how she’ll present it to public relations.

“One more season,” she offers, “we don’t tell the public until you think it’s time. You get to relish it, and you walk out head held high.”

Joe nods, using his free hand to swipe away the tears on his cheeks. 

“You’ll have a million different routes of what you can do,” Andy says, smiling wryly, “I’d be  _ glad  _ to introduce you to the world of coaching, I  _ know  _ Booker would help you get into presenting, you’ve got your fashion line-“

“I’ve got a book deal,” Joe laughs, “and it’s not like I’ll never fly or play again in a non professional capacity, but it’s…”

“It’s not the same,” Andy ducks her head, “it’s never gonna be the same.”

“Why boss,” Joe teases, “are you going to miss me?”

And that’s when Andy throws her arms around him and hugs him tight.

“Yeah,” Andy says softly, “I’m kinda sick of head injuries taking the people I love.”

Joe hugs her back, just as tight. “I’m not going anywhere boss.”

“One last season with the best seeker on the planet,” Andy laughs into his shoulder. “God. This is gonna be a PR nightmare isn’t it?” 

“I can’t help it if the people love me,” Joe teases, and Andy shoves him away, laughing.

* * *

It doesn’t feel real until he has the hard conversation with Nicky.

His poor love has been through so much the last few months. Between the legal battle and the wandless magic and his own fears- they’ve only  _ just  _ found their footing again, and Joe is about to take a hammer to their very foundations.

(His anxious brain spins bullshit stories about Nicky dumping him on the spot for not being a quidditch player anymore, and Joe curses the fact that he gave his heart to someone so obsessed with the game)

Nicky, of course, reacts with compassion and care.  _ Everyone  _ seems to be reacting so well, it’s almost like they're happy he’s going. 

Or at least that’s what his anxious brain screams at him, ten minutes after he told his family. They’re probably still celebrating. 

Logically, he knows they’re just happy because they almost lost him, he scared the fuck out of them and now they have the assurance that they’ll never have to worry about him getting him with a bulger again.

Probably. It would be just his luck to die in a freak bulger accident after retirement. 

“Joe?”

He looks back at Nicky- he’d been in the background of his call to his parents, and when Joe had come outside he’d stayed on to talk with his sisters about something or other.

Nicky’s eyes are concerned, and he brushes a hand through the curls on top of Joe’s head, avoiding the scar on the side. He hasn’t touched it yet, like he’s trying to pretend it’s not there. 

Joe sighs, leaning into the touch. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t  _ look  _ fine.”

Joe makes a noise in the back of his throat, hugging his knees tighter against his chest and staring out into their garden. 

“Yusuf,” Nicky says, coming to sit next to them. “If you’re having second thoughts-“

“I’m not,” Joe interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m really not but- it wouldn’t hurt for at least one person to be upset that I’m leaving.” 

“What makes you think  _ I’m  _ not upset?” Nicky frowns. Joe looks at him for a long moment, unimpressed. He’s in a sour mood, he knows, and he shouldn’t take it out on Nicky, but he just… he can’t  _ help  _ it. Nicky is here, and he’s been unusually calm about the whole thing, and dammit, this is Joe’s  _ career,  _ his whole  _ life,  _ and it’s ending and  _ can’t someone just be upset about it- _

“You don’t  _ seem  _ very upset,” Joe mumbles petulantly, and Nicky gives him a look. “Yeah well, the last time I got really upset about something it didn’t end well, so forgive me for not weeping at your ankles.”

Joe can’t argue with that, and he looks away from Nicky again. Nicky sighs, carding his fingers through Joe’s hair again.

_ “Hayati,  _ please tell me what’s wrong? I thought you wanted this.”

“I do!” Joe insists, “I’m- I know I should be happy, okay? I’m alive, I’m doing this on my own terms, I should, by  _ all means  _ be happy as a clam right now, and instead I just…” 

Joe clenches his fingers around his knees, shaking. “I just… I want someone to be as upset as I am, y’know? This is the end of everything I’ve ever wanted and I don’t want people to be sad but I just-“

“Want to know it meant something,” Nicky finishes, pieces coming together in his mind. “Oh, Joe,  _ Yusuf-“ _

Joe presses his face to his knees, suddenly wanting to cry  _ again.  _ Nicky always knows what’s going on in his head. It’s what makes them such a good quidditch team, one that will  _ never  _ fly again- 

“Yusuf,” Nicky cups a hand around the back of his neck. “Joe, look at me baby.” 

Joe peeks up over the curve of his knees, to where Nicky has moved to crouch in front of him. His eyes are  _ devestated. _

“I keep blaming myself,” Nicky says softly “I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if I’d been faster, if I’d stopped him or blocked the shot. We’d probably have another rookie, and we’d be in full preseason training, and I would’ve gotten to play for the cup and we wouldn’t be having this conversation, not yet.” 

Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches up and touches the scar. Joe’s breath hitches. 

“But that isn’t what happened,” Nicky says mournfully. “And now you’re retiring. I don’t even know if I can  _ play  _ after you retire. I don’t know if I can look out into the pitch and see another person in your place. I don’t know if I want to.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips to Joe’s forehead. “But I also know that you’ll be  _ here,  _ in our  _ home.  _ I know that you survived and I’m going to spend the rest of my life thanking the universe for that fact.” 

“What,” Joe chokes out, fully crying now. “So you’ll be satisfied having me here? What if…”

_ What if we’re not happy, without the game, what if we’re not the same after this, what if you get hurt,  _ what if what if what if-

“I’m sad that your leaving,” Nicky says, bumping their noses together, “but I’ll never be sad that you’re safe. You’re making a decision for the benefit of your health and the people you love, and anyone who gives you shit for that will have to deal with your sisters and me.” 

Joe sniffles, leaning forward to bury his head against Nicky’s chest. Nicky kisses the top of his head.

“And Joe? It meant something. All those years, every game we played together, they all mean so much more than I’ll ever be able to tell you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Joe cries, feeling like a baby, “I’m being a brat.”

“You’re  _ grieving,  _ my love,” Nicky insists, holding him tight. “You’re allowed to grieve a lifestyle and a career you love.”

_ “I don’t want to go,”  _ Joe admits, and Nicky hums low in his chest. “I know, my heart, I know.” 

Nicky holds him until the tears stop.

* * *

Paparazzi have been an unfortunate part of their life for a long time. 

Right from the beginning it was the news putting them against each other, the reactions to how they played were from the reporters. They’re vicious dogs, and Joe cannot  _ stand  _ them.

When the paparazzi catch a rumor about Joe’s retirement, Joe is unashamed to say he runs and hides like a spooked niffler.

Nile finds him trying valiantly to destroy a punching bag in the back corner of the gym and doesn’t say a word, just wraps her knuckles and pads around to hold the bag still for him. Joe grits his teeth and hits it harder. He pretends it’s Keane’s stupid smug little face, then he pretends it’s the reporters, then it’s a doctor he didn’t like, then it’s a  _ different  _ reporter, and then suddenly it’s Nicky’s face and oh, Joe is  _ crying  _ again,

“Y’know, you don’t have to be so strong about this,” Nile says softly, still holding the bag still even as Joe’s strikes grow weaker. 

“So Nicky tells me,” Joe sniffles, wiping his cheeks. “How’d they even find out? I haven’t told the public yet.”

Nile’s eyes darken. “Oh you just leave that to me, I’ll find out.” 

“Maybe I should tell the team at least,” Joe says softly, looking down. Nile raises a brow. “You think people aren’t going to be supportive?”

“I think they’re going to assume that I’m retiring because of-“ Joe waves a hand vaugely at his head, “and they aren’t wrong, I never want to put the people I love through that again-“

“Thanks, appreciate it.”

“-yeah, no problem- but I also don’t… I don’t want my career to be defined by  _ this,  _ y’know?” 

“Joe,” Nile shakes her head, “did you even read the stupid article?” 

“... no?” Joe asks, blinking. “Wait, there’s an article? I thought it was just a nosy pap!” 

“No, Joe, there’s an article,” Nile rolls her eyes. “It’s just an opinion piece in some trashy magazine by a wanna be Rita Skeeter. You should give it a look.”

(He does three days later, and he cries  _ again  _ because the whole thing is like a love letter from his fans, begging him not to leave, telling him how much they’ll miss him if it  _ is _ true.) 

(If he had any doubts before, they die right then.)

* * *

Joe is so  _ terrified  _ of missing the thing he loves that he starts meticulously planning life after retirement a full year before it actually happens. 

Years and years later, he admits that keeping a planner is probably the best thing he ever started doing. He spends an entire afternoon color coding the damn thing, it does wonders for his brain and he wishes he did it sooner.

Anyway, he makes it so he doesn’t have a spare moment to miss practice or playing, and someone at his label recommends he hires an assistant. 

Joe originally turns his nose up at the idea- assistants are for  _ snobby  _ people who can’t keep their schedules straight. Joe has a  _ planner,  _ thank you very much. And on top of that, he has a live-in alarm clock named Nicolo di Genova, who comes complete with crippling millennial anxiety over being late and the ability to make Joe do literally anything with just a look. 

Unfortunately, Nicky is busy planning out his own life after Joe retires (which Joe can only hope may also include wedding plans since he’s got the rings burning a hole in his dresser, and a special color coded tab in his planner waiting to be used)

(It’s the same color as Nicky’s eyes, and it’s marked with a little w and seriously if Joe doesn’t get to use it soon he  _ will  _ lose his mind) 

So he starts looking into it one day on a whim, and  _ fine,  _ maybe he can see himself needing a  _ little  _ help.

In lieu of an interview, Joe brings his prospective candidates on a day with him. Three and five try to micro manage him and don’t last an hour, one four and six are either lazy or annoying, and two is  _ almost  _ right, but just a little too far from  _ right  _ for comfort. 

They’re also the most understanding about the whole thing, and Joe sincerely wishes them the best. The other five can fuck right off. 

He bemoans the whole thing to Caitlin over lunch (periwinkle tab with a little star sticker to indicate a meal) and she has the gall to  _ laugh  _ at him, and remind him that he didn’t exactly make her job easy. 

On the day he’s going to tell the agency to stop sending them, Possibility Number 7 shows up at his house, bearing a single black coffee and a pair of sensible flats, hair pulled back and tucked behind her ears. 

“My name is Sarah Jane, not Sarah, not Jane, both.” She says without a hello. “You drink tea, right?”

Joe, who is regretting scheduling a buisness meeting for breakfast, says “uh.”

Sarah Jane doesn't flinch, just gives him a smile that is tinged with exhausted stubbornness and says “your tea and suit are in the car, come along.” 

And then she grabs his wrist and leads him out of the door. 

They spend the whole morning running around, and he finds that Sarah Jane is funny and smart. She patiently listens to him bemoan quidditch practice without pitying him, never looks too long at the scar, and he doesn’t see her without caffeine nearby even once. 

“I have five small maniacs living at my house,” she says when he asks sometime around her seventh cup. “My husband is a stay at home dad, but whenever I come home they all want mommy time.” 

Joe’s heart does a funny little dance at that- not because of her or her children, although he does ask for pictures and they are all  _ extremely  _ cute, but at the idea that maybe, someday, he and Nicky will have their own horde of children, and they’ll run up to greet  _ them  _ at the door for Baba and Papa time. 

After practice he finds her and Caitlin chatting about something or other, and feels like he’s been distinctly played. 

Caitlin gives him a funny look when he asks, and says “the whole team is worried about you, did you honestly think we’d just throw you to the unstructured world of civilians with no help?” 

(It turns out Sarah Jane once worked for Victor Krum, and he is  _ way  _ less scary than that guy) 

As his new assistant drags him away from practice while he’s still crying over how much he loves his family, some piece slots into place, and some part of him thinks  _ okay, I’m ready now. _

* * *

They win.

_ They win. _

His whole team, Nile, Chris,  _ Nicky,  _ they all hoist him up as he waves the snitch around. His family never lets him fall, not if they can help it. 

Later, Andy will tackle him in a hug. Later, he’ll watch the footage back and find out that Booker cried when he announced the win. Later, he’ll find a news photo of Keane’s weaselly little face glaring distastefully into the middle distance. Later, his family will cry about it being the end of an era. Later, he’ll try to propose and Nicky will beat him to it. 

But when the reporter asks him what he’s going to do next, he doesn’t say any of that. He says “I’m retiring,” and it’s like a great weight is removed from him, and he can finally fly up up  _ up. _

For as long as he can remember, Retirement was always equated with putting your feet on the ground and staying there. 

And yet, Joe is soaring. 

(He and Nicky get married and host more young players, Chris makes full captain, Caitlin joins his team, Nile makes a name for herself as a star, and he and Nicky adopt as many children as they can.) 

(By the time Nicky joins him in retirement, Joe’s back in the pitch training the next generation, Andy and Nile by his side and Booker in the booth. They laugh about being back together again, and realize they never really left.) 

(When you’re a quidditch player on the pitch, you’re a player everywhere, at all times, after all)

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


As he walks out of the pitch, he turns once more and bows. The audience  _ screams  _ his name, and Joe cries once more. Happy tears this time, as Joe says his final goodbyes to the life he knew before, and turns and walks smiling into his future.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: www.flamingbluepanda.tumblr.com
> 
> I love you all!


End file.
